


The Lost Art of Romance #1

by Privilegedesire (Llama)



Series: The Lost Art of Romance [1]
Category: CW Network RPF, Gossip Girl RPF
Genre: M/M, Public Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-09
Updated: 2008-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Privilegedesire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of fics in which Ed considers the benefits of romance over casual sex, and Chace considers the benefits of boys over girls. (Sex in this fic is Ed/OMC, but Chace does appear.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Art of Romance #1

It's the third time they've been to this club and Ed still doesn't know the name of it. It's the one with the colored glass all over the walls, and that should look tacky but somehow it works.

Then again, he's drunk enough to let some guy lead him down through the maze of corridors to fuck knows where, so what does he know?

"If you wanted to go for a walk, you should have just said." Ed rubs his cheek against the guy's shoulder to take the edge off his bitching. He hates how drinking makes him all touchy-feely, but the guy's jacket is nice, crackly worn-in leather that rubs his skin just the right way, and it feels good after days of silk and ruthless clean-shaving. "I'm sure we could have found some moonlight to hold hands in."

The guy has big hands too, Ed notes with satisfaction. Just right for pushing him into a dimly-lit corner, pressing his shoulders up against the wall just hard enough to force his head up. Yeah, he needs some of that, needs it enough to make him dizzy, and he doesn't know where they are but the buzz has subsided and the music is a dull thud beating way behind his heart rate, so he reckons he's been patient enough. He lets his fingers twist the veined, battered collar of the guy's jacket and his hips slide forward enough to make an invitation, then backs off a step at a time. His back hits the wall just as the guy gets Ed's zipper open and shoves his hand into his jeans, palm rough against his overheated dick, and Ed wriggles in the grasp of those huge fingers.

This is the first time he's let himself have this since he got to New York and yeah, part of him knows it's a bad idea when half his fellow cast are dancing on the other side of this wall somewhere but right now? They can go fuck themselves. Or each other, because seriously, it's only a matter of time and he's been _this_ close to suggesting an orgy to get it over with since day one.

"Gonna suck you," the guy growls into his neck, all stubble and sweat that shouldn't be as hot as it is. "That cool with you?"

Since it's the most ridiculous question Ed's ever heard, he contents himself with fucking the guy's fist harder and letting his head loll back. Teeth scrape over his neck, his jeans are heading for his knees and it's fucking fantastic, better even when the guy swallows him down because he really knows what he's doing, and if Ed has a bulletproof turn-on it's god-given talent, especially where his dick is concerned. He bites down hard on his lip, because he wants-- yeah, he wants, but if things go as everyone says they will he's got a couple more weeks at the most to get away with this before he's newsworthy. Maybe not even that, and he doesn't have a fucking clue who this guy is.

Fuck it, Ed Westwick does not have his sex life dictated by the press. Not when they don't even know his fucking _name_ yet.

It's so good Ed isn't even embarrassed at how quickly he's coming down the guy's throat, and if he had any doubts they disappear when he licks Ed's come into his mouth in the dirtiest kiss he's had in years. Pulling away with a final lick, he turns to press his forehead against the cool tiles of the wall, and that feels good, but not as good as the fingers pushing into him, as the cock that follows, as the weight of a hand on his hip and the force of a heavy, powerful body behind him.

He's not going to come again now, but he will later, with the memory of this, the ache still inside him, the finger marks still tender on his body. It'll keep him going for a while among the shiny, pretty boys and girls who coo at his accent and keep asking him about London. It's all very well making up shit about tea parties at Buck House and exaggerating the roughness in his voice to mess with their heads, but if getting laid like this is on the menu now and again, then well. New York might just be okay.

They're cleaning up in the bathroom before it strikes him, just a random glance up in the mirror when the guy offers him gum. There's something about the gesture, the mouth twitch, maybe even the gum wrapper.

"Wait, aren't you Jimmy's friend?" He can't believe he missed that; the guy spent a week or so dossing on Jimmy's floor a few months back, went out with them every night, even came to band rehearsals. Ed had always thought he was from L.A. or something, not that it made it more likely he was here fucking Ed, but still. It was kind of weird.

"Andy, yeah." The guy -- Andy -- looks amused rather than offended, thank god. "I thought you realized."

"I'm kinda wasted." Ed can see the sheepish expression on his face in the mirror. It doesn't really work for him. "But hey, big fucking coincidence in a city this huge, right?" He's seriously freaked for a moment, and he suspects it's just that his brain wasn't built for two spiritual experiences in a row because he just wants to ponder serendipity and the size of the universe for a few hours until it goes away.

Then Andy laughs outright. "I don't think there's a word for how wasted you are, man."

Ed's confused until Jimmy's arm comes round his neck and there's Benny too all of a sudden, and fuck, right, the guys have come over because they miss him. They love him, and it's the sweetest thing in the world and he wants to kiss them for it.

"We came over because you begged us, wanker," Benny says, but he's not mean about it and that means he does love Ed, right? They all do.

"Yeah, yeah, we love you, whatever," Jimmy says, and kisses Ed sloppily on the cheek. "And if you're done fucking my friends, I think it's your round."

Benny's arm is still around Ed when they stumble back towards the bar, which is the only reason Ed even tries to hear what he's shouting down his ear. It doesn't make any sense though, because he's pretty sure Benny said someone has a crush on him. Who the fuck has _crushes_? Even thirteen year old girls are all about the hooking up these days, and Christ he's glad he rarely ventures to the straight side of the fence any more because that's a hell of a fucking minefield to negotiate when some of them look older than him.

"Him!" Benny shouts, and Ed blinks, because it's Chace fucking Crawford standing next to them at the bar, and is he for real? "He keeps looking at you!"

Yeah, right. Chace looks at him because they're all still getting to know each other, though he thinks he could get along okay with Chace if the guy loosened up a bit. He almost grabbed him with both hands when the cliques started forming on set, because he seems like a nice enough guy, if a little bland, but he doesn't play those games and isn't about to start now.

He winks at Chace and gets a grin in return. No sign of fluster or twelve year old girl behavior, so Benny is obviously full of shit. "He has a girlfriend!" he shouts back, close enough to Benny's ear to be sure Chace can't hear a thing even if he has super-powered hearing. Yeah, and this is just one reason why he hates clubs.

He doesn't need to feel Benny convulse to know he's laughing, and okay, he feels pretty fucking stupid for even saying it. With Chace though, he kind of means it. All American wholesome boy, complete with aspiring star girlfriend, it's the full package and a million miles from Ed's type. If Ed was a bad person, instead of just an easy-going slut, he'd be tempted just for the challenge of it. But he's going to have to work with this guy and anyway, they could be friends.

 _Will_ be friends, he decides, because the cliques are there whether he's playing the game or not, and Chace is at the bar grinning at him instead of trying for a place in one of them, so why fight what was obviously meant to be.

Ed's brain doesn't have room for another great spiritual revelation tonight, but if it did? He'd totally have one for Chace now. But it doesn't, and it's too noisy to explain it, and he's not sure his mouth works any more, so he just pulls Chace closer and waves for another round of shots.

From the way Chace is pressed warm against his arm, and that perfect grin is directed right at him, Ed reckons he's probably got the message anyway.


End file.
